


Memories of you

by Pepper (Zalt)



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Art Enthusiast Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Bad Puns, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon Kissing, F/M, Hideous fashion choices, Mistaken Identity, Pre-Canon, thryce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-27 13:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17767322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zalt/pseuds/Pepper
Summary: There was a time when Arihnda was young and innocent. What might have happened if she met Thrawn for the first time then?





	1. Cliffhanger

**Author's Note:**

> A thousand thanks to Evilmouse for beta reading and the addition of the most important paragraph.

A moment of inattention, one foot put wrong, and suddenly the ground gave way under her. Arihnda Pryce gasped, scrambling desperately for a handhold. Her flailing hand managed to grip the edge of the treacherously steep path she had been more climbing than walking down, but it crumbled under her fingers, and then there was nothing to prevent her slide down the steep mountainside.

She just had time to hope her anti-impact shield generator would engage when something slammed into her from below, knocking the wind out of her. Blinking and dazed, she struggled to catch her breath.

_ I had heard the mountains of Alderaan were breathtaking, but this is ridiculous. _

With a gasp and a cough, she finally started breathing again. Several urgent lungfuls later, she began patting at her surroundings, and finding them solid, she gingerly turned her head to look around. Beneath her was a ledge, curved snuggly against the mountainside, and just wide enough to break her fall. She was aching and uncomfortable, but there didn’t seem to be any serious damage. The thick winter clothing that was obligatory at this altitude had been enough to cushion the impact.

Carefully, she sat up and took inventory. The shield generator sat idly at her belt, but appeared undamaged. The fall must have been just too short for it to kick in. She still had her backpack, but her hiking staff was lost. And her hands were shaking with the aftermath of the adrenaline surge.

_ Stars above, mom and dad would have fits if they knew I spent my semester as an exchange student falling down mountains. Definitely not telling them of this in the next holo home. _

Arihnda huffed, and removed her backpack so she could sit with her back to the wall, legs crossed in front of her as she tried to calm her breathing and waited for the shaking to subside. As the minutes passed she looked out over the vista below her. Springtime on Alderaan was beautiful. Above, the blue mountains were crowned in ice and snow, and skirted with the bright green of new growth. The bright ribbon of a river wound its way through the valley below, toward the unseen ocean.

Restored at last, Arihnda shouldered her backpack again, and wound her favorite scarf properly back in place around her neck and lower face. The path above was tantalizingly close, but the mountainside was sheer, and offered little in the way of handholds. Weighing her options, she decided to follow the edge where it bent out of sight around the mountainside, hoping to find a safer place to climb back to the path.

Cautiously moving on hands and knees, she navigated the ledge. It narrowed uncomfortably, then widened again. Glancing over the side, she spotted a promisingly rough stretch of mountain that might let her climb with reasonable ease down to the path that had zig-zagged back into view below her.

As she scooted toward her chosen spot, there was a brief light at the corner of her eye. She paused, turning her head... There it was again--some reflected light from among two rocks at the very end of the ledge. Something metallic? Giving in to curiosity, she crawled closer.

Nestled between the rocks was a silvery figurine, about the size of her palm.

She reached out, brushing some gravel and dirt off its surface, then lifted it out carefully. It was heavier than expected, and she resettled herself to hold it in both hands and study it closer. "Well then, what are you when you are at home?"

The figurine, she realized, was in the stylized shape of some bird of prey, wings outspread and arching over its head, sharply taloned feet forward. As if diving for some quarry, perhaps? It was heavier than actual silver. A heavy metal, or weighted in some way? The eyes were gemstones, bright faceted red that caught the light as she turned the figure around.

"Whatever you are, you’re certainly pretty. I think I will take you back to the university so Professor Nnedi can have a look at you. She likes arty stuff."

Decision made, she tucked the figurine into an inner pocket of her jacket for safekeeping, then started a careful climb down.

It was harder than it had looked, some footholds giving way and forcing her to move sideways in search of new ones. She moved almost in parallel to the path below for several minutes, starting to tire in a rather worrying way. And the sun was getting low – she needed to get off the mountain before night fell. Clenching her jaw, she decided to risk speeding up her climb, trying to angle it more directly down.

As she stretched precariously, reaching for the next handhold, the rock under her foot came loose with an ominous crack, and for the second time that day she found herself in free fall.

_ Kriff kriff kriff kr... _

... and then her shield generator activated with a loud whine and a pop of displaced air, and after a few heartbeats her steep fall was broken by a gentler impact than before– followed by a sharp exclamation from beneath in a language she did not know.

As the shield collapsed, she found herself sprawled on top of someone as bundled up in Alderaanian winter clothing as herself, hat and goggles and scarf obscuring their face entirely, making muffled sounds as they pushed at her.

"Oh stars, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall on you! Are you all right? I had a shield, I barely felt it... oh my, I don’t know what happens to somebody who is hit by a shield! Please be all right!" There was brief scuffle and confusion as they sorted their respective limbs out and got up to their knees, Arihnda still apologizing profusely and worriedly.

The other person disengaged, waving off her attempts to help, and got unsteadily to their feet. Arihnda leaned against the rock wall, standing herself to face her accidental victim...

...Who pulled the scarf down from his face and pushed his snow goggles up – revealing skin as blue as the skies of Alderaan, and bright yellow eyes that were now studying her curiously. Her heart skipped a beat as a single thought struck her.

_ Oh no, he’s hot! _

And then the stranger spoke, in a deep melodious voice, the words strongly accented but understandable Basic.

"You have certainly made an impact. Do you make a habit of falling from mountains, miss...?"

"Oh! Arihnda. Arihnda Pryce. I really am sorry. And I don’t. Make a habit of it, I mean. It’s only the second time today, and... Oh." She bit her lip, forcing the flow of words to stop as she noticed the amused quirk to the corner of his mouth. "Uhm, never mind."

She straightened her clothing to buy herself some time to gather her wits, feeling her face burn. She couldn’t help but steal another quick look at him as she did. Stunning face, broad shoulders, rather taller than herself – she thought he was older than her, but maybe not a lot older. Probably closer to thirty than her twenty.

He spoke again in that unfamiliar exotic accent. "You are unhurt?"

"Oh, yes, I think so. Will be black and blue tomorrow, but mostly from the first fall." She stumbled to a stop again, suddenly worried she’d said the wrong thing.

_ He has blue skin, was it wrong of me to say black and  _ blue _? Does he bruise the same colors? _

"Bruised, I mean," she added quickly. 

He replied drily. "I gathered."

The stranger pulled his own jacket into place, tugging the cap he was wearing further down into his face but not putting the goggles back on. Then he took a step toward a fallen satchel, and visibly winced as he put his foot down, taking a second to find his balance.

Arihnda was mortified. It hadn’t even occurred to her to ask if he was all right. "Oh no, you are hurt! Is it bad? I am so very..."

"Sorry, yes. Apology accepted." He gingerly tried to put weight back on the failing leg, but winced again. "Not broken. But I do believe the ankle is sprained. Most unfortunate. Might I trouble you to get my pack?"

"Of course!" She hurried to pick it up. It was somewhat heavy, but a manageable size. She carried it to him, then frowned in worry. "Oh, but you can’t carry this with a bad leg. You’re barely able to stand on your own. Please, let me carry it for you – ah, where are you going, by the way? I was going to hike down to the shuttle stop further down the valley."

He looked between her and the pack, hesitation writ clearly in his face. Then replied reluctantly. "I had intended to climb to the peak. I was going to paint the sunset over the valley. But it appears I must postpone to another day." He gave the mountainside a calculating look, then added, "I have a rental speeder parked below. Not very far, but given the current circumstances, I will accept your offer, Miss Pryce. And perhaps I can repay you with a lift to the shuttle."

Arihnda was relieved that there was something she could do to help, and slung the satchel crosswise over her body by the carrying strap, shifting it around until it fit with her backpack. The weight was manageable.

Meanwhile, the stranger was testing out the limits of his movements, managing a sort of limping shuffle that looked quite painful.

"Please, don’t put weight on your foot. You can lean on me." The blush returned full force as she spoke. She felt shy and awkward around good-looking men even at the best of times, but her determination to help overrode her reticence.

He was quiet for a moment, then spread his fingers briefly in what must have been a sign of agreement, for he limped closer to her, and put one hand on her shoulder, letting her take some of his weight.

The first few steps were awkward. After he misstepped once and made a muffled sound of pain, Arihnda stopped worrying about her own embarrassment at having a stranger so close, and determinedly put her arm around his waist, taking more of his weight. After that they managed a slightly faster speed down the path.

Arihnda concentrated on her footing and on keeping him stable, sparing no breath for words until the path levelled out. The air already felt warmer compared to the summit, and the extra weight didn’t help. She loosened her scarf with her free hand, and pulled her jacket open to cool down a bit.

The stranger made another muffled sound. She stopped, looking to him in concern. "Is it getting worse? Should we stop?"

"I... think that might be best. A few minutes of rest, and I should be able to go the rest of the distance."

The mossy trunk of a fallen tree was nearby, and Arihnda helped him to sit down. Then she slid the satchel and backpack off, straightening and stretching to get the stiffness out of her body. She was rolling her shoulders back when she realized the stranger was watching her intently.

That treacherous blush immediately rushed back to her face. Attempting to hide it, she went to kneel beside him, face bent to look at his booted feet. "Let me have a look? I learned basic first aid in the loth-cub chapter of the Kid Pathfinders back home. Maybe I can make it better."

He remained silent until she finally looked up, meeting his searching gaze. "Your planet uses children to find paths?" He sounded oddly solemn.

"Oh! Well, no, not literally. It’s... you know, to teach children about the planet? About the plants and animals and safe ways to camp outside and things?"

"I see. And yes, you may." He took his gloves off and leaned down to unfasten the boot, then nearly overbalanced as he attempted to pull it off.

"Oh, do let me help." Removing her own gloves, Arihnda took hold of the boot and tried to pull it off as gently and slowly as possible to avoid hurting him. She appeared to be successful as he remained silent and expressionless. She pulled the sock down enough to see his ankle and gingerly touched it with her fingertips, trying to remember what she had been taught. "It doesn’t seem to be very swollen, the boot came off fairly easily. Can you, uhm, move your toes?"

He solemnly wriggled his toes at her.

"Okay, I think that means... no nerve damage? And not broken? Which is good, since I don’t know how to fix that. But I could wrap the ankle up to give it some support. I was really good at bandaging. They gave me a merit badge for it." 

"Did they, now."

She suspected he was smiling at her again, but resolutely refused to look up as she pulled the sock on again. "I would need something... Oh, I know, I can use my scarf."

"I do have a scarf of my own, no need to sacrifice yours."

She glanced up briefly to look at his neck. A thick, warm scarf, possibly some kind of nerf wool.

"Oh, but that is rather too thick. You wouldn’t be able to put your boot on after." She pulled her own scarf off, displaying the shimmering purple length. "This is made of Killik silk. Very thin and very strong. You could put your boot on outside it and have as much support as possible."

She felt a brief pang as she made the offer. The Killik scarf had cost her most of her frivolous spending budget for her stay on Alderaan. It was so beautiful, a shimmering dark purple, like the sky over Alderaan in the last minutes of sunset. She had intended it to be a memento of her months as an exchange student.

_ Get a grip, Arihnda. It’s only a thing. Material things aren’t really important, not compared to people. You hurt him, it’s the least you can do. _

"I shall bow to your expertise, Pathfinder." Oh, now he was definitely teasing her. Why did she have to blush so easily? Grimly, she focused on winding the scarf around and under and across the ankle and instep of his sock, finally tucking the last end in carefully and replacing his boot.

"There. Try to stand on it now?" She rose, offering him a hand in support to get up.

He took her hand, though he rose easily enough without placing any weight on it. And retained his hold for a few heartbeats, blue fingers giving a brief squeeze. "Thank you, it feels much improved already." His hand was warm and dry, the skin at the back oddly smooth though the palms and fingers were calloused. She looked from the hand to his face at last, and their eyes met.

Such strange yellow eyes. And something about the whites of the eyes was off, the color dull, almost reddish. Perhaps that was normal for his species? But they were still beautiful. Her stomach did a small flop, a tingling feeling spreading through it.

"A thought occured while you were tending to my injury." He spoke calmly and matter of factly, interrupting her train of thought, and she finally remembered to let his hand go as he continued. "My speeder is not very far now, perhaps five minutes at normal walking speed. If I gave you the access code, you could fetch it. And we could travel in more comfort to your shuttle stop."

"That... yes, I can do that. That would be good."

He located the small cylinder, offering it to her. "I will wait here, looking after the gear. You can’t miss it, it’s next to the large rock below the steep part of the path that leads here."

She nodded firmly, and hurried off down the path until she was surrounded by spring green trees and birdsong. A small blue bird swooped in front of her, doing a circle of her head before flying off again, and she laughed in startled surprise.

The speeder was as easily located as the stranger had promised. It was a narrow one-man thing, more of a bike, really. Which was fortunate, as it meant she could wrangle it up the path on her own. Getting it up the steeper part of the hill was a challenge, requiring several starts and stops and some patient maneuvers. She could see why he had chosen to leave the speeder at the bottom of the hill. But finally, she was up, and rode the speeder back to rejoin him.

He lifted their gear as she approached, quite steady on his feet now. And limped over to secure it to the back of the speeder.

"Well done. There should be room for both of us if you scoot back a bit and let me drive." He paused. "Or would you prefer to be in front?"

Arihnda opened her mouth, and closed it again, running both scenarios through her mind. Then she cleared her throat and replied. "Ah, the back will be fine, thank you." She scooted back as directed, until she was flush against the stored packs.

The stranger climbed onto the speeder, checking some settings and revving the engine. Looking over his shoulder, he told her. "Better hang on tight, the ground is uneven and this thing doesn’t come with a safety harness." Then he settled the goggles in front of his eyes again, facing forward.

She placed her arms around his waist, trying not to get in the way. Holding on lightly at first, but as the speeder picked up speed and started moving in sharp turns and sudden jolts across the uneven ground, she found herself hugging him harder to prevent herself from being dislodged. Arihnda thought he must be rather inexperienced with speeders; it was as if he hit every single bump and sharp corner possible, and she was clinging fiercely to him by the time they reached the shuttle stop.

"Here we are, Miss Pryce. And just in time, I do believe that is your shuttle." He pushed his goggles up again, looking to the western sky.

His eyes must have been better than hers, for Arihnda couldn’t see anything. But she unclenched her arms and scrambled quickly down, freeing her backpack from the speeder and slinging it over her shoulder.

"Oh, uhm. Thank you for the ride?"

He leaned back on the speeder, flashing her a white smile. "The pleasure was all mine, I assure you." Before she could quite decide how to reply, he put his goggles back on, and added, "Can’t stay, I’m afraid. Do have a safe trip back to town, Miss Pryce." And with a last wave he turned the speeder around, accelerating toward the east.

Arihnda looked after him, flabbergasted at the abrupt parting. As a growing hum in the air signaled the promised arrival of her shuttle, she whispered after the departing figure. "You never told me your name..."


	2. The girl from Lothal

Morning broke over the university district, coloring the skies an astonishingly bright shade of pink. Arihnda barely noticed as she walked at a brisk pace across the campus, heading for the office of Professor Nnedi. She was in no real hurry, the day’s classes having been cancelled so the students could join the celebrations in honor of Alderaan’s new princess. But the spring air was quite cold this early in the day, before the sun was properly up, and walking fast kept her warm. Her oversized, heavily quilted jacket helped as well. It was old but well-loved, and Arihnda kept her hands buried in the deep pockets until she could enter the warmer interior of the main building and descend to the windowless sublevels that held the stores and stacks and the offices of the currently less fashionable branches of science.

 The professor was already in her office, as Arihnda had expected. Neither early hours nor public holidays could keep the woman from her work in the specialized niche at the intersection between archeology and metallurgy. Alderaan’s culture was ancient and diverse, and though the natives were highly respectful of nature, and inclined against the more invasive kind of archeological digs found elsewhere, there were artifacts unearthed on a near monthly basis that required identifying and preserving.

 Arihnda knocked on the doorframe of the office, out of polite habit, as the professor’s door was literally always open. That was only one of her many quirky habits, a sort of philosophical or mystical insistence that there should be no barriers to learning; not even a closed door. It made little sense to Arihnda, but it did not need to. The important thing was that the professor knew her craft, and happily shared her knowledge. They had spent long hours talking about the way progress in mining and metal extraction mirrored and changed culture and art, and the reciprocal nature of the process.

 “Ah, Arihnda my girl, do come in! I hadn’t expected to see you today, I thought all you young people would either be out celebrating or taking the chance to sleep in.” The professor was standing at a tall table, apparently sorting a small collection of oddly shaped rocks using some system only she knew. As she turned to Arihnda she smiled, the lines around her midnight black eyes deepening further, crinkling skin not much paler than her eyes. “What can I do for you?”

 “Good morning, professor. I.. thought maybe I could do something for you, actually.” Returning the smile, Arihnda dug the now paper-wrapped figurine from the pocket of her jacket, and walked up to the table to hand it to the professor. “I found this in the mountains, when I went hiking yesterday. It looked like your kind of thing.”

 “Oh? How intriguing. Where in the mountains, exactly?” The professor slid smoothly into professional mode as she put the little package on a free corner of her work table, carefully unwrapping the paper.

 “To the east, about half way down Rist valley. About a third of the way up the second largest peak there. You mentioned once that the ancient Alderaanians would search for meteoric iron there -- some legend about the peak once being the highest before a falling star cut it down?”

 The professor chuckled. “Oh, yes, I do love that story. Unlikely to have any science behind it, but a good story indeed. Ah, what have we here…” She raised an eyebrow at the revealed silvery bird. “Oh, this is intriguing indeed! Thank you for bringing it to me. Now, describe exactly how you found it, under what conditions, please. Did you make any recordings of the location?”

 “Oh, sorry, no. The circumstances weren’t quite ideal. Here’s what happened…”

 Arihnda recounted her walk, and the fall, and the precise location of the figure as best as she could from memory. She was still a bit embarrassed about her fall, but the professor was entirely engulfed in studying the figure, and made no comment. She moved about her office, fetching recording and measuring equipment, and did an initial but fairly thorough scan of Arihnda’s find.

Finally, she put her tools down, and stared out into the middle distance. Arihnda was quiet, waiting for her mentor to finish the obvious chain of thought. 

Then the professor gave a decisive nod, and turned to face her student again. 

“Whatever this is, I am reasonably certain it is not of Alderaanian origin. And I suspect it is far older than it looks. The material itself is inert, some alloy of noble metals. It is uncommonly hard, showing hardly any signs of wear on the macroscopic level. The eyes are common ruby, of a good quality.” 

She lifted the figure, weighing it thoughtfully in her hand. “I found microscopic traces of color -- I suspect it once had some form of blue pattern on the wings and upper body. Closer study could probably tell me more. But that can wait.” She nodded again, continuing what mostly seemed a dialogue with herself. “Yes, he’d better see it first. Arihnda, may I ask a favor of you?”

Arihnda looked at the figure with renewed curiosity. While it was disappointing that she had not found some ancient Alderaanian artifact after all, coming across something of alien origin lost in the countryside was an intriguing mystery of its own. “Of course, professor, I will help however I can.” 

“Then, if you can spare a little more time from your day off, I would like to ask you to bring this to Professor Girard at the Alde Museum of Art downtown. He specializes in old art documenting the relationships between Alderaan and other worlds, all the way back to the days of the Old Republic. He might be able to identify it on sight. And if not, it might be an interesting collaboration to try to identify it. I will give him a call first, but knowing him, a mere royal naming-day will not be keeping him from his work. Would that be possible?”

“Of course, Professor. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or two, even with the holiday crowds.”

Nnedi smiled at Arihnda. “Oh, there is no hurry. In fact, I suggest that you take the time to stop by the moss art exhibit. They have Killik Twilight on loan right now, it’s the most famous example of that ancient art. I’ll give you one of the complimentary tickets for the exhibition that Girard sent me so you can get in. Will that be all right?”

“More than all right, Professor, I’ll get right on it.” 

“Oh, do see if you can find my assistant Aryn first, she was here just a moment ago -- tell her to bring you one of the Cresh five artifact boxes, I think that will be the right size for this. It may be near indestructible, but Girard will have palpitations if you drag it out of your pocket unprotected in front of him.” Her eyes crinkled again, with amusement. “I’ll make the call, meanwhile.” 

Arihnda nodded, and headed out to check the room next door. She found the assistant bent over her work, deeply engrossed, her pale face scrunched up in determination over some tiny object she was manipulating. Arihnda was used to dealing with the professor’s previous assistant, a taciturn young man who had recently left his position. This new replacement must be more ambitious than he had ever been, to be at work this early on a holiday. 

“Aryn?” The woman looked up, quizzically. “I am Arihnda Pryce, Professor Nnedi sent me, she said you could help me find a, uh, Cresh five artifact box?” 

“Of course, not a problem at all.” 

The woman straightened and secured her work before walking over to one of the tall shelves lining the room, running her finger along the edges until she found the one she was looking for, then standing on tiptoe to reach for a non-descript black box above. 

“Arihnda, that sounds familiar. The exchange student from Lothal?” The assistant wrinkled her nose fastidiously at the partially dusty top of the retrieved black box, and detoured to another shelf for a cloth to wipe it down with. There was a certain nervous energy to all her movements. 

“The very same. For another two weeks at least. I will be leaving at the end of the semester.” 

“Oh! What a pity, Alderaan is so lovely in the summer.” 

“Spring isn’t bad, either. I’ve spent as much time as I could in the mountains -- we don’t have anything quite like it on Lothal. I mean, we have mountains, but not like these.” 

The assistant finally had the box cleaned to her satisfaction, and handed it to Arihnda. “I do hope I get to travel some day, there is so much out in the galaxy I would love to see. There you go. Do let me know if there is anything else I can do for you.” 

Arihnda thanked the assistant politely for her help, and headed back to the professor. As she entered the office, Professor Nnedi was just finishing the call, and Arihnda caught a glimpse of a rotund elderly man in what looked like traditional Alderaanian robes before the holo turned off. 

“Yes, that is the box, put it here on the table.” 

The professor carefully placed the figure into the padded interior of the box, adjusting something that made the foamy interior swell and enclose the figure in a firm hold without completely obscuring it. She made a satisfied sound, then closed the box and held a small cylinder next to it for a moment. There was a whirr and a click. “Arihnda, please touch your finger to the marked spot on the lid and hold it there for a moment.” 

Arihnda did as requested. There was a muted chime from the box, and then it contracted a little. The barely visible gap between lid and box was completely gone, leaving it a non-descript cube. 

“A standard safety precaution. The box will only open to myself, Professor Girard, or you.” Nnedi chuckled as she handed the box over. “Girard is such a stickler for proper procedure. There you go, all ready. The Professor is expecting you; he will be available around noon. Have a safe trip downtown.” 

*

The shuttles to the city centre were crowded with festive people in their best gear, talking and laughing and expressing their happiness at the new addition to the royal family. 

Arihnda had little interest in the local royal succession, but the good mood was infectious. Her Alderaanian classmates had spoken of little else the last few days, planning outfits to wear and gatherings to join to watch the proceedings, either in person downtown or on the holonet. She had succumbed to the general festive mood to the point of wearing her most flowery and colorful tunic, over white leggings and black boots in the current Alderaanian fashion. And her very practical and drab quilted jacket over the rest, since it was a fairly chill spring day and her budget would only stretch so far. 

She was smiling by the time she got off the shuttle at the stop nearest to the Museum of Art, walking with a bounce to her step. Perhaps she would join one of the dorm celebrations when she was done at the museum, after all. 

There were hours still to go before the official ceremony welcoming the new princess, but already small groups of people were gathering in the square in front of the museum, reserving spots that would give them a good view to the procession that would pass by later. Perhaps they were hoping to catch a glimpse of the little girl in person. 

And those who did not get see her in person could always satisfy their curiosity at the large hologram erected in the square, showing Bail and Breha Organa standing together, the princess held in the circle of their arms. Multitudes of spring flowers surrounded the hologram, both those placed there officially in large urns and smaller bouquets of wild spring flowers from all over the planet, left by visitors. 

There was a small line of people waiting to get into the museum, heavily weighted toward aliens and offworlders. The people of Alderaan might have better things to do with their time today, but tourists came from all over the newly minted Empire to visit this place and others like it. Arihnda got in line with the rest, until she could present her ticket and get inside. 

A statue-lined wide corridor led into the circular centre of the building, doorways opening in every direction toward the different exhibitions. There was still an hour until her noon appointment with the professor, so Arihnda stopped by a holo-map of the building to consider her options. 

Offices to the north and upstairs, moss paintings on this level to the east, bracketed by an exhibition of Killik Culture to the northeast and History of the Organa Family to the southeast. More lines -- the longest for the moss paintings, a smaller one for the Organa exhibit, but none for the Killik. More people were joining the moss painting line every minute; she suspected it would be a half hour wait or more if she waited until she had seen Professor Girard. 

_Oh well, Nnedi said there was no hurry, I might as well catch the painting first._  

Arihnda headed east. And frowned as she realized that one reason for the long line was that all the visitors had to pass through a security checkpoint first. The Alderaanians really did take this moss painting thing seriously. As she watched, a Rodian was pulled aside by the guards, complaining loudly about security so oversensitive it was triggered by a mere sizeable metal belt buckle. 

_That’s inconvenient. It will probably be triggered by the box, and then there will be such a fuss._  

She bit her lip thoughtfully, then backtracked to the entrance and the small visitor lockers in a side room, locking the black box up carefully. 

_It’s only for an hour, and there are guards everywhere. It will be perfectly safe._  

Then she went to join the moss painting line before it could get much longer. 

 

*

 

The light in the curved room was dimmed, perhaps to protect the moss paintings. She joined the group of people clustering around the main attraction, impatiently waiting her turn to get close to it. Then she finally reached the velvet rope partition in front of the square painting, and gasped softly as she took in the full view of it. 

 A pang of homesickness twisted almost painfully in her chest. The striped, conical mounds so dramatically arranged on the moss canvas with their lengthening shadows and earthy colors -- it could have been a scene from Lothal rather than Alderaan. In her Pathfinder days her group had gone camping among such mounds, lighting fires and telling tall tales by starlight while the mounds sheltered them from the winds across the plain.

 “Wonderful, isn’t it?” A newly familiar voice intoned behind her, melodious and heavily accented. 

Startled, Arihna turned around. “Oh, it’s you!” Though had it not been for the familiar voice and the rather distinctive blue skin, she would have been in doubt.

 The stranger was not wearing winter gear now, but colorful and voluminous robes worn open over a frilly red shirt and black pants tucked into high boots,and with tasseled bag hung over one shoulder. It was gear she vaguely recognized as a current fad among the humanities and arts students at the university. He was bareheaded today, but between voluminous black hair hanging in heavy locks to his shoulders, the colorful bandana tied over his forehead, and the oddly tinted spectacles that took over where the bandana ended at eyebrow-level, she could see even less of his face than she did last they met. 

“What an unexpected pleasure to meet you here, Miss Pryce. And to find you a fellow art lover, as well.” He looked from her to the painting. “The waning of the day, the alien and the familiar meeting briefly at twilight… and then separating as darkness falls.” Then he looked back to her. “What do you see?”

 “Lothal… It looks exactly like home. The mounds I mean. What are *you* doing here? And you never told me your name!” 

“I didn’t? Then I must apologize for my lack of manners. I’m…” The people behind them were starting to shift impatiently, and he paused. “But let us do proper introductions after you are done looking at the painting.” 

“Oh, now will be fine, I can always come back later.” 

_ And I’m not letting you run away again before I find out who you are. _

 

*

 

She joined him at a statue in the middle of the room, a structure of wood and stone and metal that offered a stark contrast to the muted moss paintings lining the walls. Each material was used to depict another serpentine beast, intertwining with the other two in a dynamic and ambiguous way. At another time she might have studied it with fascination, now she turned to the blue stranger as he followed and stopped at her side. A tinge of guilt touched her again as she realized he was still walking with a limp, if a very faint one. 

“Does your leg still hurt?” 

“I can hardly feel it. I’ll just have to avoid climbing any mountains for a few days and it will be good as new.” There was definitely a touch of amusement to his voice, and Arihnda felt another blush rising. To cover it, she said quickly. “You still owe me a name.” 

The stranger inclined his head in acknowledgment, and put a hand to his chest as he sketched the beginnings of a courtly bow and intoned in a formal way much at odds with his most informal appearance. “I am Mitth’raw’nuruodo, a humble student of the arts. A visitor to this world, working to perfect my understanding. And to perfect my craft, in answer to your previous question.” He patted his tasseled bag. “I come here sometimes, to make sketches of the art.” 

“Oh! I’d never have guessed it. I thought perhaps you were a tourist, here for the Naming.” 

“It is a moment of importance, but not why I am here, no. And yourself?” 

He had stepped a little closer as he spoke, and she found herself tilting her head back to look at him properly. He was really quite tall, and his low-pitched voice was mesmerizing. Her belly did an odd little flip-flop, a distracting tingle spreading from her core. 

_Stars above, Arihnda, get a grip! Say something!_  

“Uh… Oh, why I am here? Not, not the Naming. I mean, I’ve been here for a while. Exchange student. Metallurgy. From Lothal.” 

“The place that Killik Twilight reminded you of? I should like to see it, someday.” 

“Oh yes, that would be nice. Uh, I mean, it’s a nice place to visit.” 

Arihnda was pretty certain her ears were burning. Something about his mere presence short-circuited her brain entirely. And she was Arihnda Pryce, who was never at a loss for words. Except, apparently, around Mitth’raw’nuruodo, visiting art student. 

To her relief he did not try to continue the conversation, instead reaching for his bag. “I had started sketching this statue when I saw you entering and went over to say hello. Would you mind if I finish it while we speak? The museum is to close early today for the parade, I gather.” 

“Oh no, that is fine, please go ahead. Is it all right if I watch?” She all but went limp with relief as he focused his attention away from her, and on the supplies he pulled out of his bag. Actual paper, the kind Alderaanians made from wood pulp for formal use. And what she suspected was some kind of charcoal stick. Ancient tools for an ancient art, somewhat surprising but somehow also right, for him. 

“Please do, it does not distract me.” He located the sketch in progress, attached to a flat board of a rather more pragmatic modern material, and focused on the statue as he resumed taking down the lines of it with swift, practiced strokes. 

Arihnda looked at the sheet, watching in fascination as the triple creature took shape. Not exactly as she saw it herself, but somehow more stylized, more aggressive. Where she had seen ambiguous intent in the intertwining beings, what Mitth’raw’nuruodo drew was bold and fierce and somehow single-minded in its striving. As if the beings were trying to reach out behind the confines of the joint base anchoring them. “I have never seen anything quite like it.” 

He responded in a distracted way. “In technical terms, it’s a chimaera, composed of the bodies of three different beasts. Symbolically, it represents hope, and reaching for the impossible. Or apparently impossible.” 

“Oh. It’s… very nicely done. Very artistic. The way you draw it, I mean.” 

Mitth’raw’nuruodo finished the sketch, studied it for a moment, then added a faint diamond shape to frame the base of the beast. And then he detached the paper from the board, offering it to her. “I am pleased that you like it. Please, accept it, as a gift.” 

She reached out slowly, accepting it with both hands. Her stomach flip-flopped again as his fingers briefly brushed hers. “Oh, but it’s so beautiful, I couldn’t…” 

_Yes you can! Take it! Hurry before he changes his mind!_  

“I have more sketches of it, from earlier visits. There is always something new to see, from a different angle. Perhaps some day I will feel I have seen the whole picture of it.” He watched her admiring the sketch, then added after a few seconds. “I believe that is your comm?” 

Arihnda blinked, and realized he was right, her comm was making the soft hum appropriate to being in a museum. She was tempted to ignore it, but very few people ever commed her on this planet unless it was something urgent. “I think I’ll have to take that, please forgive me for a minute. Oh, uhm, and thank you. Really. I love the sketch.” 

She juggled the paper and the comm as she walked away a few steps for privacy and answered the call, tucking it briefly between cheek and shoulder as she very carefully rolled up the chimaera sketch into a tube. “Arihnda speaking?” The paper tube just barely fit inside one of the generous pockets of her jacket, and she made a mental note to move carefully lest she accidently crush it. 

“Miss Pryce? This is Aryn, Professor Nnedi’s assistant? She wanted me to check in on you and hear how you are doing with, uhm, her errand?” 

“I’m still at the Museum of Art, Professor Girard isn’t available to see me until noon. Which I suppose isn’t much longer now. Tell Professor Nnedi not to worry, the bird is perfectly safe and I’ll get it to him as soon as possible. Maybe I’ll stay a little longer afterwards. Unless she needs me back?” 

“Oh, no, that’s quite all right. Enjoy the parade! I’ll let the Professor know everything is fine!” 

Arihnda put the comm away, and returned to Mitth’raw’nuruodo who was entirely focused on setting a new paper into place on his board. “Sorry about that, university stuff. And it reminded me I have an errand in another quarter of an hour or so.” 

“So soon? Most regretful. I was looking forward to getting to know you better.” 

“We could still do that… afterwards, I mean. If you are still here. We could… get a caf? Maybe?” 

“An excellent plan, Miss Pryce. I should like that.” 

Arihnda exhaled in relief at the reply, smiling at him. She’d never met somebody who had made her feel simultaneously so excited and so relaxed about being around him. It just felt… right. Perhaps the stories were true after all, and sometimes there were just people who were meant to be together. Soulmates. She had always thought that a silly concept, but her conviction was wavering. 

“Please, call me Arihnda. Only my teachers call me Miss Pryce.” 

“Very well, Arihnda.” Her belly did another flop at the way he pronounced her name. Then he continued. “Less than a quarter hour left until your appointment. Would you permit me to use the time to make a quick sketch of you? I can work on the detailing until we meet afterwards.” 

This time she didn’t have to mentally argue with herself before accepting. 

“I would love to see that. Please.” 

“Then I suggest you resume your interrupted viewing of the moss painting. Do not worry about posing, it is not necessary. Perhaps you can tell me more about why this painting reminds you of your home? 

She nodded, and returned to the painting, standing toward the edge of the small group in front of it. She couldn’t have kept the smile from her face even if she wanted to -- the pleasant frisson of her meeting with Mitth’raw’nuruodo overshadowing her earlier twinge of homesickness entirely. Now the painting evoked only good feelings -- the similar mounds on Lothal and Alderaan seemed to tie everything together somehow. What had he said? The familiar and the alien meeting? Feeling the weight of his gaze on her no longer made her feel awkward, but happy. 

The minutes until noon passed quickly.

 

*

 

Arihnda had separated from Mitth’raw’nuruodo reluctantly but dutifully, after repeated assurances he would be happy to wait for her until she was done with her errand. 

He followed her as far as the central hub, and settled down on a bench there to continue working on his sketch of her. She had tried to steal a peek at it, but he had covered it up and told her that patience would have its reward later. Something about the way he said “reward” made her giggle and blush, and when she headed for the north staircase she was still feeling just a little giddy. 

A cheerful green-clad guard in a little security cubbyhole at the bottom of the stairs checked her ident chip against registered visitors. “Oh, from the university. Professor Girard is expecting you. Up the stairs to the right, third office down.” The guard waved her through, then returned to watching a tiny holo flashing between scenes of gathering crowds and images of the royal family. 

Arihnda made it to the top of the stairs, still walking on pink clouds and daydreaming about spending the day of celebration with Mitth’raw’nuruodo, before suddenly realizing she had forgotten to fetch the black box from the secure locker area. She frowned in annoyance. So far to go all the way back to the entrance, when she was nearly there, and a bit embarrassing to deal with the guard again so quickly… she decided to go introduce herself to Professor Girard first, then return for the box afterwards. 

The corridors were deserted. She didn’t know if the museum was usually this empty, or if most of the staff had taken the day off for the celebrations. Fortunately, the doors were clearly marked, and she found Professor Girard’s office easily. The door in the recessed doorway was half-open, the guard must have told him she was on her way. Or perhaps he shared Professor Nnedi’s quirk about always being available. 

As was her habit with Nnedi, she knocked on the doorframe, pushed the door open and entered. “Professor Girard? I’m Arihnda Pryce, Professor Nnedi sent me...” 

She trailed off. The office was neater than Nnedi’s, closed cupboards of specimens rather than open shelves, and it had a magnificent low desk of polished wood rather than Nnedi’s standing work table. Behind the desk was an old-fashioned swivel chair with a tall back and curved armrests, currently turned away from the door. She could just barely see the top of a brown head with a fringe of grey hair above the back. And one arm that was lying at an awkward angle on an armrest. 

The little hairs at the back of her neck stood up as a sense of something being _wrong_ penetrated the remnants of her good mood. She walked cautiously closer. “Professor? Are you all right?” 

Heartbeat accelerating, she walked closer, and touched a hand gingerly to the chair. It swung easily under her touch, perfectly balanced… and revealed the very dead body of Professor Girard, sprawled limp and staring in his chair. The cause of death was immediately visible, the hilt of a very ornate knife ( _civil war era; ceremonial; steel with gold inlays_ her mind whispered absurdly) jutting from his blood-stained chest. 


	3. Kiss me quick

Arihnda was still staring at the corpse in disbelief, her chest starting to ache with the need to draw enough breath to scream, when there was a loud sound behind her. The door, closing.

She whirled around, to look right into the business end of a blaster aimed steadily at her head. The dark void of the muzzle eclipsed everything, consuming her attention until someone barked a question at her. “Where’s the bird?”

“W-what?” The world came back into proper focus, and she realized the blaster was held by another guard in green uniform. “Oh stars, I don’t understand -- he’s dead! What is going on?”

“Don’t get cute with me, girl. I know you were taking it to him. In a black box. Where is it?”

_ The figurine? But how…? Why...? _

As the guard took a menacing step closer Arihnda’s frozen brain started working again.

_ Cooperate. Stall for time. First step: Don’t get shot. _

“I have the black box. But not here. It’s nearby. I’ll show you where it is, please don’t shoot!” She held her hands up, palms out, trying to look as cooperative as possible. There would surely be people near the lockers, and on the way there, somebody who could help her.

The guard grabbed her arm, and pulled her roughly forward before pushing her toward the door.

“Try anything fancy and you’re dead, I’ve got the blaster in my pocket and won’t hesitate to use it. Will just tell people you were a foreigner caught plotting against the princess and I’m the heroic guard who stopped you. Eyes forward, mouth shut, get moving.”

Arihnda swallowed nervously, finding her feet as she walked to the door, pulling it open with unsteady hands. Surely, that couldn’t be true. Or could it? She walked carefully as instructed, eyes forward, hands carefully kept where the guard could see them.

The corridor remained empty of people as she retraced her path, the guard a menacing presence at her back. As she walked gingerly down the steps, she heard a sort of muted roar from outside the building. A cheering crowd -- was the procession already approaching? That would explain the empty corridors as staff and visitors headed to the windows or outside to see the royals pass by.

She didn’t dare turn her head, but looked sideways from the corner of her eye as they passed the guards cubbyhole downstairs. Perhaps they would realize something was wrong… but though the little holo of the procession was still playing, there was nobody seated in front of it.

Arihnda slumped a little as the faint fluttering hope of help died. She would have to gamble that the guard would let her go once he had the box, and that Professor Nnedi would forgive her for losing the artifact.

And then there was a loud, meaty thud, and a groan, and something impacted against her legs to make her stagger. Gasping, she fought for balance -- and then strong hands took a hold of her, and a familiar voice spoke in accented Basic. “Easy, Arihnda. It is I. You are safe.”

_ Mitth’raw’nuruodo! He saved me! _

The green-clad guard was down and out, the remains of an archaic wooden chair around him. Mitth'raw'nuruodo must have used it to knock him down.

“Thank the stars! I thought everybody had left. Oh, it was horrible -- there is a dead man upstairs. Somebody killed him with a ceremonial dagger. And this one pulled a blaster on me, hid it in his pocket so nobody would see.”

_ In his pocket where nobody could see it… wait, how did Mitth’raw’nuruodo know I was in danger? Where did he come from? There was nowhere to hide except the guardroom, what was he doing there? _

She blinked, looking from the cubbyhole to Mitth’raw’nuruodo, who was kneeling beside the guard and searching him with brisk efficiency, retrieving the blaster and slipping it into his fringed bag with easy confidence. He stood again, and apparently noticed her doubtful frown. Stepping over the guard to stand at her side, he spoke quietly.

“I saw someone follow you when you headed for the stairs. I recognized this one from earlier, but he was not dressed like guard last I saw. And not alone then, there were two of them. Felt wrong. Followed this one, saw them fire blaster at guardroom. Stunned one there. Probably real guard, as this one is probably not.”

He glanced toward the stairs, and continued hurriedly. “The other may be around. May be dangerous. May be more than one. Will explain more, but we must leave first. Safer outside.”

Arihnda had a thousand questions, but getting out of the ominously empty museum to the safety of crowds outside first held an urgent appeal. She nodded tersely in agreement. Mitth’raw’nuruodo held up a hand in a silent signal to delay, then dragged the unconscious not-guard into the cubbyhole before joining her to half walk, half run to the exit. “Might buy an extra minute, if they search for their compatriot first.”

As they reached the entrance area, Arihnda looked toward the locker room to one side. “I need to fetch my things from the locker first.” Mitth’raw’nuruodo made to follow her, but she stopped him with a hand flat on his chest, saying sternly, “Private things. Alone. You can… keep watch or something.” His lips thinned, but he nodded curtly and stayed where he was.

Arihnda hurried to the locker where she had left the box, and looked over her shoulder. Mitth’raw’nuruodo was not in view, good. She might not understand what was going on here, but her mama hadn’t raised a fool, and she was taking precautions until she figured out what was going on.

Retrieving the black box, she opened it as Aryn had explained. The figurine came free of the protective padding with little effort, and after a moment of thought she stuffed it down the front of her dress and into her bra, adjusting it until she was certain it didn’t show. Sometimes, there were advantages to being top-heavy. Closing the box again, she put it in an outer pocket of her jacket, where it made a noticeable bulge.

Then she hurried back to join her rescuer. And blinked in surprise as he came into sight.

The colorful bandana was gone, the long black hair tucked into the collar of his coat. Which had been reversed, to show a grey-and-black mottled interior. She only realized it was the same coat because she saw a glimpse of the gaudy color on the inside as Mitth’raw’nuruodo pulled it closed and fastened it. Then he tugged the collar up to his chin, and eventually there was not a touch of color in sight, only black boots, grey-speckled coat, and black hair -- and a small area of blue skin between turned-up collar and tinted glasses.

“I suggest you remove your jacket, Miss Pryce, and bundle it up. The change in color and silhouette will help if they are looking for us in the crowd.”

She felt an odd sort of tug inside as he reverted to addressing her formally. Which was ridiculous. He was still a stranger, he was acting oddly, why would she want him to call her Arihnda?

_ Get a grip, girl. Let’s get out of here, then you can ask questions. _

She shrugged out of her jacket and rolled it up, careful of the box in the pocket, as they headed outside into the cheering crowds.

*

Mitth’raw’nuruodo led the way, pushing through the crowd with his larger bulk. She noticed that he was hunched over somewhat, no longer a head above most in the crowd.

The festive crowds grew denser the further they were from the museum. Better for hiding, but harder to move -- after a minute he angled away to the side, leading them toward the back side of the giant hologram of Bail and Breha Organa with their new daughter. 

The hologram was projected from a base taller than a person, and surrounded by tall urns and vases of flowers. The area was mostly empty, the crowd parting to either side to get a good view. They finally stopped halfway, concealed between two of the larger urns.

“Procession will be past soon, easier to move then. We can wait here.” He looked down at her. “You have questions.”

“You bet your conveniently reversible coat I do! What is going on? Who were those people? Who are  _ you _ ? You’re not just here to study art, are you?”

He was silent for a long moment. Just as he started to speak, there was another roar and the crowd surged forward a little. Somebody called out gleefully “There is the princess! I can see her!”

The cheers rose and fell in waves. Mitth’raw’nuruodo leaned closer still, until she felt his breath tickle her ear as he spoke, enunciating carefully.

“You are most observant. No. Not just to study art. Being a neutral outsider, I have been hired as a private investigator by the Alde family, in a matter concerning an object of contention between them and members of the Thul family. A wide-spread conflict involving, in one way of the other, the allies and enemies of both families and their wide-flung net of influence.”

“Earlier today, a tap on the, ah, opposition’s communications suggested that the object of contention was headed for the museum. And that the Thul were likely to try to intercept it.”

He paused, then continued. “You must understand, this is a very personal conflict. Hidden deep. None would wish to draw attention, they move subtly. So I waited at the museum, dressed as a student.”

Arihnda’s hands slowly curled into tight fists as he spoke. “So it was no accident that you were there. It wasn’t an ‘unexpected pleasure’ that you met me after all.”

“I regret that the circumstances were not different, Miss Pryce. But this is bigger than both of us, do you not see?”

“No, I do not. I don’t even know what this object is, and why it’s so important.”

“I think you do know. Yours was the name overheard, as bringing the object to Professor Girard.” He spoke more softly now, the roaring of the crowds having moved further away as the procession departed. “Give me the bird, Arihnda. I will make certain it gets to the rightful owners. As long as you keep it, you will be in danger.”

“Is that a threat?” Her throat felt tight, her fingernails digging into her palms painfully.

He seemed genuinely surprised at the question. “No, Miss Pryce, never. I would not threaten you. It is… an observation. I strongly suggest that giving me the object will be better for everyone, but I will not force you to do so.”

Arihnda exhaled, tension fading a little. She thought for a moment, then said slowly. “I have a better plan. Let’s go to the police together, and turn it in. Then proper ownership can be sorted out in a court of law instead of with this wild cloak and dagger stuff.”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo gave her a long look from behind tinted glasses. Then he smiled, in what seemed to her an almost fond way. “Oh, Arihnda. You are pure of heart. But pure is not good, not here. Not in this situation. The people involved  _ are  _ the authorities. There is no neutral court of law for them.”

While he spoke, she caught a glimpse of green from the corner of her eye. Guard green. Looking past Mitth’raw’nuruodo, she spotted two people in the dress of the museum guards, moving through the dispersing crowds in a determined way, heads moving back and forth as if looking for something. As if looking for  _ them _ , she realized. And they were getting closer--it was a matter of seconds before they looked right at them. There was no time to think, only to act.

“Kiss me, quick!” She pressed close to Mitth’raw’nuruodo, placed her hands on either side of his face so her hands covered most of the blue skin showing, and then stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips, obscuring the rest of his face from view of the pursuers.

He went rigid in surprise. Then after a second or two he relaxed, and placed his arms around her shoulders and waist, pulling her close and leaning down a little so locks of long hair fell around his face, obscuring it further, and letting her sink back to her feet rather than straining to stay on tiptoe.

Arihnda didn’t know if her ruse worked, or how long they would have to stay like this until the searchers moved on. Best to continue, hoping for the best. Maybe for a minute…

_ Maybe longer. This is… nice? _

She felt herself relaxing into the embrace, leaning just a little bit closer. And his lips softened under hers, parting a little as he tentatively returned the kiss.

_ Very nice. _

She wasn’t quite certain who finally broke the kiss, but as they pulled apart they were both breathing a little unsteadily.

“I’m sorry…”

“I apologize…”

Arihnda felt a most inappropriate giggle bubbling up from her chest, and failed to stop it, quickly clapping her hand to her mouth. Mitth’raw’nuruodo smiled, his fingers brushing her arm before he lowered his hand.

“As I assume that was not just a random impulse -- perhaps you might check if whoever you were hiding us from is still near?”

“Oh, yes, right…” She looked around in what she hoped was an inconspicuous way. And felt the blush in her cheeks deepen as a matronly woman in the crowd gave her a grin and a thumbs up. Quickly looking back to her companion, she cleared her throat and said “They seem to be gone. I think we’re safe.”

He replied quietly. “Please give my suggestion due thought, Arihnda. I suppose it is too much to ask you to trust me, given my, ah, misdirection earlier. But you have seen with your own eyes what these people are capable of. Their interest in you begins and stops with the object. Once it is no longer in your possession, you will be safe.”

_ He is right. I must get rid of it. But not by giving it to him, no matter how nicely he kisses. Professor Nnedi will know what to do, once I get back to her. Without him. _

She lowered her gaze, fiddling idly with her bundled coat as if in thought. Then made a show of biting her lip, before digging through the coat to locate the bulging pocket. Turning her back to the thinning crowds so her actions were hidden between them and the nearest urn, she offered Mitth’raw’nuruodo the black box.

“You’re right. I don’t want those scary people after me anymore. Please, make sure the bird gets to the proper owners. Uhm, the box is locked and I don’t have the key, but I’m sure you or they can figure something out.”

He accepted the box, saying warmly, “Thank you, Arihnda. You made the right choice.” He deposited it carefully in his satchel, then asked  “Will you be able to get home all right on your own? I should not delay getting this box where it belongs.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I’ll be fine. You know, eventually. It’s been a day. I’ll just be on my way now -- there’s a shuttle approaching, I can just make it. Good luck. Bye.”

She did not wait for a reply, but turned and ran for the shuttle, hurrying onboard just before the doors closed.

As the shuttle lifted off, she looked out the rear viewport and saw his tall black silhouette beside the Organa hologram, standing still and looking after her until the shuttle turned the corner of a building and he was out of sight.

Arihnda found a free seat and sank down on it, wrapping her arms closely around her chest, feeling the edges of the figurine pressing against her skin.

_ I wish it had been real. _

*

She got off the shuttle at the campus, tagging along after a group of students on their way to a party celebrating the princess--not that the local students seemed to need much of an excuse to party. Arihnda had been dragged to a few of their celebrations in her early days on Alderaan, inevitably waking up the next morning with an aching head, a blurry memory,  and the feeling something had crawled into her mouth to die during the night. She’d quickly given up on that lifestyle in favor of focusing on her studies.

During the shuttle ride she had attempted to reach Professor Nnedi on her comm, but there had been no reply. There was always a chance she had left her office to attend to celebrations with her family, but Arihnda decide to check there first. If that failed, she would contact campus security  -- even if what Mitth’raw’nuruodo had said was true, surely the feuding families would not have bothered to infiltrate something as insignificant as the university’s security.

Her steps echoed through the usually busy corridor leading to the Professor’s office. Arihnda felt her feet slowing and bile rising as a memory from the museum flashed to the front of her mind. The empty corridor, the half-open door -- the  _ blood _ . She swallowed hard and took a steadying breath. There was light in the professor’s office--that was a good sign. Tapping the doorframe, she walked slowly forward, calling out. “Professor Nnedi? Are you there?” There was no response, and she headed in to find the room empty.

“Hello again!” The chipper voice of the Professor’s assistant came from the corridor behind her, and Arihnda startled violently before realizing who it was. “Oh, Aryn, how you surprised me.” She stepped aside to let the woman in. “I was looking for the professor, it’s rather urgent.”

“Professor Nnedi isn’t here, she went home early today. The celebrations and everything. Maybe I can help?”

_ I could give her the bird. She could lock it up in the collections or something, and the professor can deal with everything in the morning. I’m so tired… I just want to go home. _

Arihnda wavered. Then set her jaw and clenched her hands, pulling herself together. This wouldn’t do. Arihnda Pryce was not a quitter, she would see things through.

_ Maybe nobody found poor Professor Girard yet. I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. The Professor will know what to do, she always does. _

“Thank you, Aryn, but I really need to talk to the professor, and she isn’t answering her comm. Do you happen to have her home address? Or some other way to reach her? It is terribly important.”

Aryn frowned and looked around, as if trying to jog her memory.

“She has emergency contact information here somewhere, I remember her mentioning it -- oh, I know, look on the shelf behind you, under the eggshell fragment, that bit of paper. Be careful when you move it, it’s fragile.”

Arihnda turned to the shelf, focused entirely on lifting the piece of eggshell very carefully up so she could pull the paper under it out.

She just had time to register that the paper was completely blank before something struck her head hard from behind, and everything went dark.


	4. The long silence

When Arihnda came to, the first thing she noticed was that she was unable to move. She was upright in a chair, her arms tied behind her back, and her ankles restrained to the legs for the chair. With a groan she raised her head, which ached abominably. The room spun blurrily around her, then settled and slowly came into focus...on Aryn the assistant, who was standing in front of her, holding a cruel looking staff with sharp metal shapes on either end and worn hand-holds toward the middle. She was holding it clumsily and nervously, but with a look of grim determination.

“Where is the box?!”

“W-what?”

Aryn raised the staff menacingly. “I said: where is the box! I know you didn’t give it to Girard!”

Arihnda stared in disbelief. The professor’s new assistant, the pale and nervous and helpful one -- was threatening her? And knew about Girard? “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t mess with me! I’ll hurt you! I mean it.” Aryn poked the spiky end of the staff at Arihnda, who winced in pain as it dug into her arm. “I want the box.  It wasn’t in your jacket, where is it?!”

Aryn stomped on something on the ground, and Arihnda realized that it was the shredded remains of her favorite jacket. Sudden fury gripped her.

“I don’t have it. I gave it to somebody at the museum.” Technically true, at least.

_Maybe I can get my hands free. Keep her talking. Distract her._

Arihnda pulled at the restraints on her wrists, keeping her eyes on the assistant. “What do you care about the box, anyhow? I don’t even know what was in it.”

“And neither did Professor Nnedi, or she’d never have given it to somebody like you! ”

“I still don’t know what you are talking about. What do you mean ‘somebody like me’?”

“A foreigner! Oh, you’ll never understand, coming from some insignificant settlement in the middle of nowhere. You don’t know what it’s like to have history and traditions that mean something!”

The woman planted herself in front of Arihnda, touching a hand to her chest as she declared proudly “I am Aryn Thul, and the bird belongs to _my_ family. Not that treacherous Alde lot, who _stole_ it from us a millennium ago.” She started pacing back and forth, building into a good confusing rant. “Hah, they said it was part of a dowry, but that marriage had never been approved by the _real_ Lord, and furthermore..”

Arihnda let the woman talk, and took the opportunity to tug harder at her bonds. Maybe she could slide her feet down the legs of the chair, if she could tilt it or overturn it, but would she be able to get to her feet before she was struck down again?

“... and when I realized that it really was the bird, I told them right away, and they were going to get it from Professor Girard. Except he didn’t have it yet, and I had to call you to find out if you had been to the museum yet, and they had to kill him because he tried to call for help, and it’s all your fault, really, for not getting it to him sooner.”

Stopping her struggles at that particular statement, Arihnda gaped. “My fault? You’re crazy.”

That comment earned her another stab with the spiky end of the staff, and she gasped in pain as she felt it penetrate deep enough to draw a drop of blood. “Don’t you dare call me crazy!!!”

“Ow! Stop. Please. I’m sorry I called you that. But I don’t have the box, I really don’t.” She tried another tack. “Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anybody. I’m going back to Lothal soon, and then nobody would need to know. And I really don’t know where the box is, honestly.”

Aryn sneered. “Liar. I put a tag on the box the moment I overheard the professor ask you for a Cresh five. We put it on all the valuable stuff so it can be found if misplaced or stolen.  I wasn’t sure it was what I thought it was yet, but I wanted to be sure I could find it quickly if my suspicions were true. Barely had time to get it back on the shelf before you wandered in asking for it. Glad I had the presence of mind to wipe my prints off it before I gave it to you.”

She poked the staff at Arihnda again, who squirmed out of the way as best as she could. “So I know you are lying. I tracked it all the way to the museum and half the way back, before the tag stopped working. You probably found the tag and disabled it. Now I am tired of this. Tell me where the bird is, or I _will_ kill you!”

_Half the way back? But I gave it to Mitth’raw’nuruodo_ …

“I don’t know. Please, you have to believe me!”

Aryn Thul sneered, face twisted in anger. And suddenly she yanked the ancient battlestaff up over her head, barely keeping her balance at the weight of it, and plunged it back down into Arihnda’s chest.

There was a brutal impact, a dull metallic sound, and the room went dark.

 

*

Arihnda wheezed, struggling to get her breath back after the impact of the staff. It had hit the bird hidden in her bra straight on, the hard metal stopping it completely but having an insufficient area to distribute the impact over. She was definitely going to have a bruise later. If there was a later. Why did everything go dark? She wasn’t hit _that_ hard. She managed a gulp of air.

Then she heard the sound of a struggle, scuffling and impacts, and a sudden cry that she thought was Aryn followed by a dull thud. And everything went very, very quiet.

Arihnda froze, holding her breath. She couldn’t hear anything, but she felt a presence nearby...

And then she saw two glowing red eyes hovering in the darkness in front of her, moving closer.

Desperately, she tugged at the unyielding bonds, trying to push herself away with her feet, but the eyes came closer. And then a hand touched her unhurt shoulder, and a familiar deep voice spoke in accented Basic. “Be not afraid, Arihnda. You are safe. I will untie you, now.”

“Mitth… Mitthra… _What in all the Corellian hells is going on?_ ”

He moved around her chair, freeing first her feet and then her arms. And then he moved away, and the room lights came on again.

Arihnda stumbled to her feet, arms prickling painfully with returning circulation, and her legs not much better. Leaning on the back of the chair, she stared at the prone and apparently unconscious Aryn Thul on the floor, then at Mitth’raw’nuruodo.

Mitth’raw’nuruodo stood near the door. All remnants of his disguise, from the gaudy coat to the colored contacts, had been discarded. Now he wore a bodysuit of some sleek black material, covering him from the neck to the knee-high boots. His hair was no longer falling in long locks about his face, but was short and slicked back.

He was looking back at her with unblinking red eyes. With the lights on, they no longer appeared to be glowing, and she could see that there were lighter red irises against the darker sclera. His expression was stern, and she was just wondering how much trouble she was in when it suddenly cracked into a faint smile before he spoke.

“We have to stop meeting this way.”

She half laughed, half snorted at the unexpected words. And tried to let go of the chair to go to him, but her legs wouldn’t quite hold her up.

Before she could fall, he was there and steadied her, the look of amusement fading to one of concern. “Are you hurt?” The red eyes scanned her flowery dress, stopping at the small bloodstain at her shoulder, nearly hidden among similarly colored flowers.

“Just a scratch. And my head. And my, uhm. Going to have a bruise, I think. I will live. Now will you tell me what is going on? Why are you here? _How_ are you here?”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo eased his hold on her, but did not quite let her go. She found she did not mind, and leaned against him. Inexplicably, she felt safe now that he was here. Despite his lies.

“I knew when you gave me the box that the Izinkulungwane Uheshe was not inside. It was far too light.”

Arihnda blinked, tilting her head to look up at him. “The what?”

“The...bird, as you call it. It has another name among my people.” He added, before she could ask, “Among the Chiss. I could not tell you the truth earlier. I have never been an agent of Thul or Arde, I have worked only for the good of the Chiss Ascendancy.”

He added, quietly, “I came here, because I knew which university you were from, and who your mentor was. It was among the notes I found in your backpack. I searched it, while we were in the mountains and you went to fetch the speeder. A necessary deception -- I was there searching for the Uheshe, and feared you might have found it before me. I had to think of a way to separate you from the backpack to check if it was there. Apparently you had it, but hidden elsewhere.”

Arihnda frowned. “You weren’t hurt? It was just a trick to get me out of the way?”

“I did not think there was much chance that you had it, I just had to make sure. It seemed the least dramatic way to ensure it. I have never intended you harm, Arihnda.”

“People have been harmed. Professor Girard is dead. Was that all because of you?”

“My mission, once we heard of the reemergence of the Uheshe, was to go here and retrieve it in secret, with no disruption. No lives would have been lost, had I found it first.”

To Arihnda, the claim echoed uncomfortably with Aryn Thuls earlier accusation that Professor Girard’s death was Arihnda’s fault for interfering. She tensed.

Mitth’raw’nuruodo apparently noticed. “None of this is your fault, Arihnda. This was entirely the doing of the feuding Families of Alderaan, stuck in the past and trying to score points on each other no matter who was hurt in the process.”

He raised his hand, very gently brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “The Uheshe is of immense importance to the Ascendancy. It has no true value to Alderaan, but it will keep causing trouble as long as it is here. Please, Arihnda. I need you to trust me in this thing, though I know I have given you little enough reason for trust. But you have seen for yourself what happened, once it was in circulation again. People are dead. Do you want this pointless conflict to continue?”

Arihnda wanted to be angry. She wanted to fight back, to find the professor, to make her world make sense again. But the truth was, she was tired. She didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Mitth’raw’nuruodo was there, real and solid, and though he _had_ lied to her, he had also saved her. Twice.

And this was not her world. What did she care about its conflicts?

“No. I just want it to end. I will give you the bird, if you promise nobody else will be hurt.”

“I swear it, on my honor and the honor of my Family.”

She looked searchingly into his red eyes. Satisfied with what she saw, she took half a step back, and reached into her décolletage. And pulled out the silver bird with the ruby eyes, holding it out to him. She noticed as she did that even the heavy blow from the battlestaff had not been enough to dent it -- it was still pristine and shining, untouched by everything that had happened, barely even warm from being pressed against her body for so long.

His eyes widened at her action. He carefully lifted the bird from her hands, running a thumb over it. “So this is where it was hidden. I would never have guessed.” The half-curl of a smile touching his lips made Arihnda’s cheeks start to burn again.

“Well, since the museum, anyhow. I just kept it in my jacket pocket in the mountains.”

Mitth’raw’nuruodo nodded solemnly. Then he took a few steps away from her, and bent to put the figure on the floor. Before she could ask what he was doing, he stepped back to rejoin her, pulled an alien looking weapon from its holster on his belt, and directed it at the figurine. A ray shot from the blaster, hitting the figurine.

Arihnda stared in disbelief as the ray continued to hit the figure steadily, making it glow a brighter and brighter red -- until suddenly it shattered and fell to pieces. A glowing center was left behind, and as the glow faded she saw a small pyramid shape, intact among the shards of the bird.

“... You destroyed it! You said it was important!”

The Chiss holstered his blaster, and knelt down to retrieve the small pyramid. The shards of the bird still had a lingering glow at the edges, but the pyramid was apparently cool enough to the touch that he could lift it with his bare hands.

“This is the part of it that was important. It contains a map of Chiss space, including the location of our homeworld.”

He tucked the small object away in his belt, then returned to Arihnda, holding his hand out to her. She accepted it with hesitation, then tightened her fingers around his.

“Thank you, Arihnda. You have done us an invaluable service.” She thought he was shaking her hand in thanks, as was common in the Empire, but he turned her hand over in his and placed the other hand over it, folding her hand warmly between the two.

“More than a thousand years ago, the Chiss were not the strangers to this part of the galaxy that we are today. We were allies of the old Empire that was in power back then. But our ways diverged, and the mutual decision was made to erase all memory of the Chiss from the outsiders.” His fingers moved gently against the back of her hand, caressing it. “We had allies who helped us in this task. One was Alderaanian, and helped us retrieve this map from the depths of some Alderaanian noble’s vaults. It was the last known map of Ascendancy space known to be lost. “

“She died trying to get it back to us, and the location of the map was lost with her. Until a smuggler trying to hide some of his goods from pursuit in the mountains here stumbled over it by accident. He did not know what it was, but since he thought it looked old and valuable, he had it posted for sale on the dark holonet. Where it was spotted by one of our operatives.”

“The operative purchased it, but was double-crossed at the handover. He killed the smuggler, but was badly hurt himself and had to abandon the Uheshe when it fell out of his grasp down the mountainside. I was sent to retrieve it in his stead.”

Arihnda said softly. “And then you found me, instead.” Her fingers tightened a little on his hand.

“And then I found you. You are a remarkable woman, Arihnda Pryce. For someone so young, to react with such bravery and intelligence, outwitting the others searching for the Uheshe -- you have my admiration and respect.”

He let her hand go, and cupped her chin gently instead. “And stars help me, you are beautiful. When I sketched you at the museum, I am not ashamed to admit I wondered what it would be like, to kiss those lovely lips. And then I did not have to wonder anymore, when you kissed me among the flowers.”

Arihnda felt the tingle return to her belly as Mitth’raw’nuruodo watched her intently, the smallest pressure from his hand encouraging her to tilt her chin further up. She found her lips parting under the heat of his gaze.

“I think I was not alone in enjoying that kiss.”

“... You were not.”

“And in hoping for another?”

“...You are not.”

He leaned closer, searching her eyes. And then she stood on tiptoe again, meeting him halfway with sudden urgency, her lips claiming his.

And then his arms were around her, and all the worries of the day faded into a warm glow of happiness as the kiss deepened. She pressed against him, melting into the embrace, and he broke the kiss briefly to murmur something in a language she did not know, then pressing further kisses along her jawline and down the side of her neck, adding one to the hollow of her neck before tracing the path back up her neck again.

Arihnda whispered breathlessly as his lips neared hers again. “What does that mean?”

He dotted a featherlight kiss on her lips, then leaned his forehead against hers as he answered.

“I am so sorry.”

“What…?” And then there was a hiss, and a pressure against the side of her neck, and the world was spinning and fading around her.

Strong arms caught her, and lowered her gently to the floor. She struggled to speak or move, but an intense lassitude had taken hold of her as everything grew dimmer. The last thing she perceived was his voice. “I am so sorry, Arihnda. My mission was to make certain the last memory of the Chiss was gone. I cannot allow you to tell anyone about this.”


	5. The man who wasn't there

Arihnda woke up as a most unwelcome ray of sunshine found its way past the blinds in her room and hit her face.

She fought to hold on to sleep, just for a little longer. But finally she had to admit failure, rolling over to get out of the path of the light. And then groaning, as the motion triggered a brief wave of nausea followed by the beginnings of a headache.

_Oh stars, that must have been some party last night._

She grabbed her pillow, putting it over her head to block the light out. But the headache persisted, the brief nausea replaced by a cottony, sticky feeling in her mouth. Grumbling, she abandoned the pillow and struggled up to sit on the edge of the bed.

As she started to push herself to her feet, she winced at a twinge from her arm. There was a bruise there, with the scab of some kind of small healing cut in the middle. There was another bruise, bloodless, on her chest. Touching the back of her head gingerly, she felt another sore area there.

_What the kriff… What happened yesterday?_

Looking around the room, she saw nothing out of place. Except her favorite jacket. Or rather, the remains of it. With a curse, she was on her feet, and staggered over to examine it.

It was completely ruined, torn to shreds as if someone had taken a knife to it. She felt tears coming to her eyes, and wiped angrily at them. She hadn’t cried in years, why start over a shabby old jacket? Sniffling loudly, she tried to hold the tears back, and started folding the remains of the jacket up. There was no saving it, she might as well throw it out. And at least her favorite purple Killik-silk scarf hadn’t been damaged--it was in fact folded uncommonly neatly and placed in the precise center of her desk.

As she rolled the jacket up tightly enough to fit into the trash receptacle, she heard an odd crinkling sound. Unfolding it again, she realized there was a piece of old-fashioned paper stuck along the side seam of one of the largest pockets. She managed to pry it out, and slowly unrolled it. 

There was an odd sketch on it. After turning it around once or twice, she decided it was a stylized representation of three beasts of some kind, rising from a diamond shape. She stared at it for a long time.

She was certain she had never seen it before. But something about it evoked a strong emotional reaction. Her stomach clenched and her heart accelerated. Anger, fear, grief… and something odd and tingly, just below her navel.

 Whatever this was, it must be connected to what had happened to her jacket. But even trying to think of that, or trying to remember what had happened the day before, brought the headache back with a vengeance. She gave up chasing the memory.

 In the end, she crushed the paper into a ball, and stuffed it in the trash along with the remains of her jacket.

It couldn’t have been anything important.

 

*** 

 

_Some Chiss no doubt found it arrogant to display one's own artwork, and some may have argued the human standard of beauty questionable and particularly misplaced in a senior officer's workplace, but Mitth'raw'nuruodo ignored these and other conventions._

_He liked to look at her._

 

***

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> The general theme of this challenge was spring/fertility/romance and my assigned tropes were "Pure is not good" with optional sub-tropes "Agents Dating" and "Hero and Heroine Alternate Rescue/Protection


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